


An Unexpected Encounter

by s0mmerspr0ssen



Series: Encounter [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, BDSM, Consent Issues, Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-07
Updated: 2011-08-07
Packaged: 2017-10-22 08:15:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s0mmerspr0ssen/pseuds/s0mmerspr0ssen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is a burglar who lives off what he steals. One day, he breaks into 221B, Baker Street thinking that it's empty. It's not empty: Sherlock Holmes is having a self-bondage session.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unexpected Encounter

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Неожиданная встреча](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2737991) by [fridaypm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fridaypm/pseuds/fridaypm), [soames](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soames/pseuds/soames)



> Attention!  
> Contains: dub con, BDSM  
> \---  
> Chinese translations for this fic (and its two sequels): [here](http://bulaoge.net/topic.blg?dmn=kangtacaty&tid=2260191#Content), [here](http://bulaoge.net/topic.blg?dmn=kangtacaty&tid=2262735#Content) and [here](http://bulaoge.net/topic.blg?dmn=kangtacaty&tid=2267052#Content).

_It's almost too easy_ , John thinks, carefully breaking the window frame with his crowbar. _Does no one ever think to install burglar alarms anymore? Or at least some proper windows?_

With a satisfied smirk on his lips, the moldy frame breaks and John pushes the window open with his gloved hands until he can swiftly enter the flat he has been keeping an attentive eye on for the past few days.

Resident is a single man, the only other person in the house his rather old and oftentimes limping landlady. John has never once bothered with names. Names are too personal.

They should both be out for the night, giving John ample time to find everything of value. He has been a burglar for many years now, knowing where to look and what to take. John knows which pawnbroker will accept stolen jewellery, which gang pays good money for a nice set of knives or even the occasional gun.

His latest prey definitely has some dosh.

John has watched the man for quite some time, has seen the expensive clothing and has recognized that certain air about him that speaks of old money, of growing up with a nanny and tea parties in the garden. He is living in a rather shabby flat now, probably to prove something to his family or himself. John doesn't know what, doesn't really care either.

All John does care about is making some money to pay for his next meal and possibly the electricity bill.

For a few minutes he simply crouches in the darkness of the room, listening carefully and eyeing his surroundings.

Nothing.

The flat must be empty, just as he has thought.

Reaching into the sleek black bag around his shoulders, John withdraws his torch and straightens up. This will be fun.

He is standing in a living room. The furniture doesn't look all that promising but John knows his rich, single men - they mostly don't care about their furnishings and much rather invest their money into gewgaw like expensive TVs and golden watches. Exactly what John needs.

The living room turns out to be void of anything valuable. The only memorable thing about it is a spooky human skull on the mantlepiece that nearly scares the crap out of John when the light of his torch hits it.

 _Creep_ , John thinks and moves over into the kitchen.

He's surprised when the light of his torch hits a microscope. An expensive-looking microscope, not the kind hobby-scientists would buy.

"Bingo," John allows himself a whisper and opens his bag.

The microscope isn't the only instrument of value. John mentally calculates the amount of take-out the chemical tongs, magnifiers and red-light bulbs will buy him. As if on cue, his stomach grumbles lightly in agreement.

John knows how to pack his bag carefully, how to avoid the sounds of two metal objects clinking together as he moves. Even though he is positive that the flat is empty, he has had enough experience with thin walls and nosy neighbours with excellent hearing to understand the importance of keeping quiet at all times, no matter the circumstances.

Once he has finished in the kitchen, he decides to go upstairs.

The most valuable items can usually be found in the bedrooms. People like to lie next to their precious belongings as if their snoring would keep any professional from snatching them away. John could do his break-ins with people still inside of their homes. He simply choses not to, even though the thrill would be quite exquisite.

John creeps up the stairs, careful to avoid the middle parts of the steps that are much more prone to creaking than the unused edges. The next door is the bathroom which leaves the door on the opposite for a bedroom or maybe a closet.

It is a bedroom.

It is also a scene from _a bloody hardcore porn film_.

John cannot help himself - he draws in a loud, harsh breath and nearly drops his torch in shock.

On the bed, spread out on white, crisp linens and illuminated only by a lonely bedside lamp, lies the very man John has been observing for the past week. But gone is the fine coat, the elegant scarf and the fancy footwear.

Instead, he is wrapped up in a complicated net of leather restraints that should cut off any circulation but apparently does not. One glance at the fully erect, pink cock in between the man's long legs are proof enough that blood is _definitely_ flowing. The man's eyes are hidden behind a dark, silken blind-fold that is fastened behind his head. It goes oddly well with the colour of his curly hair, currently sticking to his forehead which is glistening with a fine film of sweat.

His left arm is tied to the headboard with silver handcuffs. Luscious lips are stretched tightly around a ball gag that must muffle any sound that might be produced because John isn't exactly an expert in this field, but the way the man fucks himself on the thick, black plug in his right hand should definitely cause _some_ kind of noise.

John feels himself getting hard almost instantly.

His rationality starts screaming at him to move, to get out, to do something other than shamelessly stare at the naked stranger on the bed that is pleasuring himself into ecstasy. But something holds him back. John has never, ever seen a sight more exciting, more _arousing_ than this.

It is a split second decision. John fully enters the room and quietly closes the door, his gaze never leaving the sight in front of him. The stranger doesn't seem to be aware of John's presence, probably way too lost in whatever fantasy he is currently indulged in. A fantasy John is suddenly very desperate to participate in.

He switches off his torch and places it in his bag which he puts down a moment later. He unzips his jacket while moving closer to the bed, getting a good view of the act of penetration in front of him. Carelessly dropping the piece of clothing onto the floor, John finally stands at the bottom of the bed, simply watching for a few delicious moments.

Watching that tight muscle stretch around the smooth surface of the plug, watching that pale, long body all but _swallow_ the object and tremble in pleasure. The erect cock is definitely leaking now, the tip glistening with pre-cum and John has the distinct feeling that the man will orgasm soon.

 _Well, we can't have that now, can we?_ he thinks and with a smug smile, John reaches out and seizes the stranger's wrist in a strong grip.

At once, the body in front of him grows entirely still.

For a moment, John stops breathing and simply waits. He can still run, can be gone long before the man in front of him will have managed to grab the handcuff keys off the nightstand to free himself. John has never removed his leather gloves, hasn't left his DNA at the flat either. Nobody would know.

Then, the man in front of him starts trembling again, stronger than before and his hips start to move, seeking some sort of friction. With a triumphant grin, John uses his free hand to pull out the plug until only the very tip is still penetrating the stranger's entrance.

Obviously, fucking the man himself isn't an option, even if the stranger has yet to struggle, has yet to give any sign that John should not continue. He can be called many a things but not a rapist. But surely - helping a bit? Making the whole thing a bit more _exciting_?

With an almost primal growl, John pushes the plug back in with full force.

He can hear the faintest of moans through the ball gag and the other man's cock twitches in response to being filled once more.

 _Yes,_ John grins, _he is definitely enjoying this._

Not wanting this to be over so soon, John lets go off the plug which stays inside firmly and moves until he is kneeling on the bed, all the while never letting go of the man's right arm. With his own free hand, John starts to outline the body in front of him.

John imagines what it must feel like: a complete stranger's touch, foreign fingers dressed in leather painting an invisible picture of every rib, every tendon, every leather strap.

John's erection presses harshly against the inside of his trousers when he pictures it, sees himself in the position of the other man.

His touches become stronger now, demanding, pressing into the foreign flesh when he deems it necessary, occasionally slipping underneath the leather straps to touch the red, abused skin underneath. John has never been into bondage but can't deny how erotic the dark marks and straps look next to the pale, soft skin around it.

He rubs over the man's nipples, knows that it must be painful but also understands that a man, restrained and blind-folded like that, probably enjoys a bit of pain with his pleasure.

The pale body in front of him is helplessly shaking now and if he wasn't gagged, John knows the man would be begging for friction, for release, for a hand on his leaking cock, but John doesn't want to give in just yet.

He wants to _play_ some more.

He moves downwards again, lets go off the man's free hand which instantly curls into the bed sheets as if he knows that touching himself really isn't an option at the moment, that John will have to tie the other arm to the headboard as well should he attempt to find release with his own fingers.

John spreads the legs in front of him wider, slides his gloved hands up and down those long and tempting thighs.

 _Gorgeous_ , he thinks, _how very gorgeous._

He knows it is cruel, knows how maddening it must be to be touched so close, so very close to one's erection but never getting any true friction. But that _is_ the point. John wants to play, wants to tease and _oh_ , he is so hard himself, so unbelievably hard.

Finally, after endless minutes of simply stroking and occasionally playing with the leather straps around the legs, John has mercy with the quivering man. Slowly, painfully slowly, he slides one hand between the clenched buttocks and circles the stretched muscle twice before getting a hold of the plug. His other hand wanders up, the thumb stroking the balls lightly before settling around the base of the cock.

He starts stroking and pulling simultaneously, rubbing gloved hands over the man's erection and penetrating his hole at the same time.

Of course, it doesn't take long. John has been teasing the stranger for minutes, maybe a quarter of an hour and who knows how long he has been pleasuring and torturing _himself_ before that.

With another muffled moan, the stranger finds his release, semen pulsing out of his cock and onto his stomach, onto the leather restrains and all over John's hand.

It's such an arousing sight, John cannot deny himself any longer. The hand that has been moving the plug only recently, swiftly pulls it out and lets go off the object in favour of moving and rubbing over John's own crotch, the other hand never leaving the stranger's softening cock.

John comes in his trousers and doesn't even care much for the mess _that_ will make.

For a few minutes, the room is filled with panting. John realizes he is nearly breathing as heavily as the man in front of him who seems to be lost completely in a high of post-orgasmic bliss.

 _I don't even know his name_ , John realises, finally letting go off the stranger's cock. _I don't even know his bloody name._

He more-or-less cleans his soiled hand on the sheets before stepping away from the bed. He turns, crouches down, feels the stickiness in between his own legs but still doesn't care. It had felt so good, simply _too_ good to wait until he would be gone from the flat.

Suddenly, he hears the stranger shift behind him.

"Next Saturday," a deep voice floats into the room, a bit hoarse but still utterly arousing, utterly sexy.

John nearly jumps and turns, heartbeat quickening, but the stranger has only removed the gag, not the blindfold. The other man doesn't want to see his face, maybe to keep up the fantasy.

John doesn't speak up, careful not to ruin the mood, the built-up tension.

"Come back, next Saturday," the man repeats and John can't stop himself from grinning a dirty little grin.

He moves forward one last time, carefully squeezing the man's right knee in agreement. The man nods, a tiny but oddly pleased smile on his abused lips.

John grabs his belongings, the bag with his stolen goods and the torch, and leaves the room as quickly and quietly as he can.

While approaching the broken window, he briefly wonders whether or not he should actually take the things with him, after what they had done.

 _Electricity bill still doesn't pay itself_ , he eventually concludes and vanishes into the night, fondly thinking of the coming Saturday.

**Author's Note:**

>   
> 
> 
>  
> 
> Art by the wonderful [megaloo](http://megaloo.tumblr.com) \- thank you so much!


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